


Bedposts and Cold Cream

by Morgana



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, Object Insertion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:30:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William had always lusted after his sire's bed</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedposts and Cold Cream

The door slammed shut with a thud that reverberated through the entire house. William's eyes snapped open, but he lay still, counting first to five hundred and then a thousand. When he was sure that he was completely alone, he threw the covers back and slid out of bed. He'd pretended to be asleep when Drusilla came in to fetch him, and thankfully she'd been too excited about the outing to spend much time trying to wake him. There was something William wanted more than the hunt, something he'd decided could wait no longer.

 

The young vampire padded barefoot down the empty hallway, alert for any sound or movement that might indicate he wasn't as unobserved as he thought himself to be. At the end of the hall, he stopped before the door, studying it for a long moment. His hand settled on the doorknob and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening the door and letting it swing silently inward. Darla had left the curtains drawn back, so the room was painted in moonlight, giving it the look of some faerie chamber. In any other instance, the young vampire would have been awed by the ethereal beauty, but at the moment William only had eyes for one thing, the center of his deepest dreams and wildest fantasies... Angelus' bed.

 

It was magnificent. It dominated the room in the same way that its owner did, with a monumental beauty that drew him inexorably towards it. William moved forwards as if in a trance, one hand reaching out towards the footboard. The wood was cool, smooth and satiny from years of use, the grain polished smooth by the caress of countless hands. He curved his palm around the railing, following the line of it down to the bedpost. The post rose up to a series of graduated knobs, the rounded tip no bigger than Darla's prized pearl pendant. 

 

He traced a circle about the very tip, then slowly released it, fingers rising to unbutton his shirt. Without ever taking his gaze from his prize, William shrugged out of his shirt, letting the linen slide down to puddle on the floor, followed quickly by his trousers. Naked, he curled his hand back around the lintel, leaning down to smooth his cheek over its surface, purring at the juxtaposition of the carved bumps beneath the smooth wood. Rubbing against the post like a cat, he peered through his eyelashes at the huge expanse of the bed, where in his imagination Angelus lay spread-eagled and waiting for him.

 

William climbed up onto the edge of the bed, wrapping about the post, his eager cock rubbing against the lintel. He smirked down at his phantom lover, teasing him with a thrust of his hips, the drag of sensitive skin against textured wood making him gasp. The sound was echoed from the bed, and he heard a deep voice rasp, *Stop teasing me, lad. Make yourself ready, for I need to be inside you now.*

 

It was ridiculous to think of Angelus saying that, but he liked the sound of it. Angelus would never admit to _needing_ anyone except perhaps Darla, and certainly not his wayward fledgling who was more often than not left to fend for himself. Of course, the neglect didn't mean that he wasn't still bent over the nearest surface or shoved up against the nearest wall whenever his sire decided to take him. He'd been buggered in almost every alley in London by now, as well as in most of the rooms in the house. But never this one-if they wanted a bed, they always went to William's. When he'd asked to spend the night in his sire's bed and in his sire's arms, the answer had been an infuriating smirk and the words, "You'll have it when you earn it, my boy."

 

William decided he was very fond of the idea of Angelus needing him, wanting him enough to ask instead of just take. He moved again, a slow press and retreat of his hips, watching the way Angelus' cock twitched in response to the action. Reluctantly, he slid back down to the floor and padded over to Darla's dressing table, where he plucked her favorite jar of cold cream from the surface. It was ₤5 per bottle, although William couldn't see what would justify such an exorbitant expense-it was just cream, even if it did smell nice. But the idea of using it for Angelus made him grin, and he could see by the sensual smile that the irony of it wasn't lost on his sire.

 

The top of the jar was left on the table, while the open container was carried back to the bed. William scooped up a liberal portion with his fingers, then turned towards the bedpost. This was the point of no return, he knew, for while he might have been able to explain his scent by simply being in the room to fetch something, there was no way he would be able to hide the scent of the cream or the amount that was being used. He smoothed the cream over the finial, coating it liberally before closing his hand around it once more.

 

Up and down he worked it, fingers sliding along the wood that grew slicker with each pass, pumping it slowly while in his imagination Angelus alternately watched with hot eyes or writhed under his hands as he slicked his prick up. When the wood shone with the cream and the air was filled with the rich aroma of roses and violets, William released the bedpost and dipped his hand into the cream again.

 

A smaller scoop this time, and Angelus moaned from the bed. William smiled at his sire, moving to kneel between his legs on the coverlet. He looked at the dark-haired vampire from under his eyelashes before turning to face the end of the bed. One hand braced on the railing, the other moved behind him. His eyes drifted closed, fantasy creeping closer. In his mind, the finger that nudged at his entrance and then slid inside was thicker, rougher than his own in a way that spoke of both home and hunter. One finger, then two, scissoring and spreading the cream with a care that the real Angelus had never shown. But now... oh, now, he was gentle and loving and so tender, just like William had always known he could be.

 

Fingertips brushed against that spot deep inside and William hissed, bucking against the hand that prepared him with such delicate strokes. He writhed on those fingers, sobbing lightly with a desperation that was only made worse by the soothing voice that said things he'd never really heard. *Shhh, macushla, easy. You'll have what you need in a moment. There, now, open for me, let me feel you round me.*

 

A third finger slid inside, stretching him until he was aching for more. The hoarse gasp, "Angelussss... please, now!" was answered with a low chuckle and kiss on the shoulder. *Now, then. Come ride me, sweet William.* He rose to his knees, dizzy with lust, his hand dipping into the jar for the last of the cream as though in some sort of dream. The bedpost was slicked up one final time, and William savored his sire's gasps as they rang out in his ears.

 

Somehow he fumbled his way onto his feet, swaying as the ropes creaked with the motion. For a second he feared he would fall, but he managed to keep his balance and get turned around. And there it was-the round tip nudging his rear, hard and insistent like Angelus but with even less give. William placed one foot on the bed railing, braced his hands on the base of the finial, and sank down on the first knob.

 

A twinge of pain answered him and he caught his lower lip between his teeth, sharp white edges worrying the soft flesh there as he bore down, taking in two more notches. He panted softly, gathering his determination before trying further, his reward another knob. But he couldn't stop, didn't want to stop despite the pain that promised to only get worse and with a muffled scream he bit through his lip as the final and largest knob slid inside and he rested on top of the backs of his hands.

 

It was unbelievable-pressure, more than usual, and a burning heat that threatened to incinerate him from the inside out. The scent of his blood filled the air, mingling with the roses and violets to create a unique perfume, a combination that would forever be linked to this night. William brought one hand up to catching the scarlet trail that slid from his lips, licking the bloody digit clean, wriggling a little as he began to adjust to the feeling of the finial embedded deep inside him.

 

*Jesus God, Will, have done with it! You're torturin' me, lad, need to feel you move.* The words were ragged, gasped in a tone of pain and pleasure, and William closed his eyes once more, giving in to the lure of the Angelus only he could hear. He rocked on the finial, moaning at the pressure that had stars forming behind his eyes.

 

When he could stand it no longer, he raised up until only the first knob remained inside, gasping at the emptiness, only to yelp when he dropped all the way back down. He heard Angelus groan, felt the blazing heat of his eyes, and something inside him, some last tether that spoke of what was good and right and gentlemanly... snapped. William threw his head back and began to ride the bed in earnest, the joints creaking under the weight and motion.

 

God, it was amazing! He felt so primitive, wild and free, delighting in every thrust, every press of the smooth wooden knobs that sent him soaring to heights that had only been hinted at before now. Angelus had never let him ride and now William knew why: this was power. He could control the depth, the speed, the angle, use it all to make him burn like never before and yes, if he were to master this skill, he was positive he could make his sire beg.

 

The blond was too lost to pleasure to hear the soft rasp of metal on wood as the deadbolt was carefully eased into place. He didn't notice the rustle of fabric as cloth fell away from skin, never realized that the sounds he made weren't the only ones in the room. A hand stretched out from the shadows by the dresser, less than two feet from the supple curve of the young man's back, but it was snatched back before any real contact could be made. Not yet, not yet... there was still more to see before the real prize was claimed.

 

His prick ached and William wrapped his hand around it, fisting it in time to his thrusts. He could see Angelus under him, feel the hard cock driving up into him and he knew it wouldn't be much longer. Words began to pour out of him in a stream, the young vampire hardly aware of what he was saying as he lost himself in the pure abandon of the moment. "Fuck, Angelus, feels so good, love having you inside me. Want more, gimme more, yeah, that's it. Gonna.... ohhhhh, gonna come, sire, can't stop, can't-unnnggghhhh!" He drove himself down on the finial one final time, shaking uncontrollably, his wordless scream filling the room. Pulse after pulse of liquid silk jetted from his cock, covering his neck and chest in long, sticky strands.

 

The hands that lifted him off the bedpost and laid him down on the bed and the tongue that swiped the slick streak of semen from his cheek only dimly registered. Fantasy had blurred into reality and William was all too happy to stay lost in the images he had created for a little while longer. He would have to go back to the real world soon enough, the one where Angelus looked at him with hard eyes and spoke cutting words in a cold voice. But for now he had his Angelus, of the gentle touch and rumbling purr that made him feel safe and warm.

 

"Thought I told you my bed was a privilege, boy." The words sliced through his blissful haze and William braced himself for the worst beating yet. He'd known this was a possibility and now that he'd been careless enough to be discovered, he would take whatever came next. His teeth worried the small wound on his lip when no blow was immediately forthcoming, for he hated the anticipation more than he ever had the pain-something Angelus knew well and didn't hesitate to exploit at every opportunity, damn him.

 

Why did he have to see everything so well? William hated him for that, but not nearly as much as he feared Angelus discovering his secret. Demons weren't supposed to love, weren't supposed to care, that had been drilled into him since he crawled out of the dirt. Fine, then-he would take whatever Angelus handed out, be the demon his sire so obviously preferred. William would be locked away somewhere inside and someone else would take his place.

 

Angelus watched as surprise, fear, anger and acceptance played out on William's features, marveling again at how easy the lad was to read. Was he not aware of how he gave everything away, did he not realize how vulnerable he made himself with such open display, or was he simply unable to hide nothing? Whatever the reason, it was a trait that would have to be schooled out of him, if he was to last for more than a handful of years.

 

But that was for another time. Right now, there was something else to attend to, a far more pleasant task. In truth, he was surprised it had taken the boy this long-he'd expected him weeks ago, when he'd first declared his bed off-limits. And while he'd been growing impatient and almost ready to break his own rules, he had to admit-that little trick with the bedpost had been well worth waiting for.

 

Angelus rolled onto his back, pulling William atop him. His hands slipped down to part the younger man's cheeks and with one thrust he slid inside, the way still stretched and slick with cream. He'd never been able to do that, bury himself inside William so completely with just one move, and the feeling was overwhelming. With a moan, the big man fisted his hand in the sandy blond strands, drawing his boy down to him. Just before his lips closed over the ones that were already open in a soft O, he whispered, "So now you'll spend the rest of the night earning that privilege."


End file.
